It had been almost fifty years since Heath had massacred that small, dirty village.

At the time, fate had eluded him. Every reading of his—upon every mother, father, son, daughter—had given him nothing. None of these people had been his quarry.

Obviously, he had ignored the children. How would a child be able to kill a God?

Of course, he didn’t beat around the bush and immediately killed everyone on sight. The children—he had a bit more sympathy towards. So he let them off with their lives and sent them off to work as [Slaves] for the rest of their lives.

It was the greatest mercy that Heath could offer the children. Anymore and he would be compromising the interests of the Grecia Empire.

That a significant portion of the Inquisition’s power was concentrated in that village at that time meant that they had to leave other parts of the Grecia Empire vulnerable. If information were to leak about the incident before they could return to their posts, the Grecia Empire would suffer a catastrophe.

At the same time, he would be able to provoke the [God-Killer] into taking action. Such a remote village out here reminded him of clans that, after a few generations, turned into entire communities and villages.

Surely, he had thought, if he killed someone dear enough to his quarry, he would be able to drag them out from whatever hole they were hiding in.

However, no one came forth to stop him.

Afterwards, he rummaged around the valley, in an attempt to locate the array that almost deluded him and his men to turn around and leave. When he found nothing, he promptly left and ordered that the array’s location be found, researched, and utilized to further the strength of the Grecia Empire.

A few months later, he received a report that Kirkstead had to be abandoned because no matter how hard they searched, they couldn’t find the source of the array.

Heath snorted.

If they couldn’t find the array back then, how come a mere peasant of ordinary class and low-level was now controlling the array to kill his men by the second? After this was all over, he would find whoever was responsible for overseeing the project and have him gloriously executed for all to see.

Boom.

In the distance behind him, dirt and blood flew through the air as a lone homing projectile blew up another [Inquisitor].

Heath remained unfazed even as people died by the second.

One minute and twenty-three seconds had passed since they had entered the valley, and over half of his men were already dead. And these weren’t any ordinary men, they were [Inquisitors]. They were the deadliest fighters the Grecia Empire had. With their mere presence alone, they struck fear into their opponents.

But now it was as if they were just cattle, walking up in single-file, one by one, to be slaughtered by their owner. But it was the only way. Only under the cover of mass chaos could he reach Milo’s underground location as swiftly as possible.

If they all banded together, moved forward as a unit, and fought tactically, Heath could assure victory with minimal casualties. But Heath didn’t have that sort of time. He had less than seven minutes and counting until the God of Fate killed him.

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Truthfully, Heath knew this was going to happen. [See Future] had shown it all.

Everyone else, apart from him and the [Head Inquisitor] were doomed to certain death. But it was for a great cause; a greater purpose. By sacrificing themselves, they allowed the [Exalted Empyrean] to continue to serve the Grecia Empire.

[Inquisitors] were easily replaceable. Heath Ada Levine, on the other hand, wasn’t.

As for his own fate…

His own fate was always difficult to read. His soul was shrouded in a thick, gray fog. He could glean a general impression, but never any further.

Right now, however, his fate was very uncertain, hanging in the balance like a stone teetering back and forth on the edge of a cliff.

But he knew one thing for sure.

No matter the outcome, everything would end between him and Milo, Son of George.

***

Milo’s mind was unable to process just how many people he had killed. His hands moved without thinking. With almost every spell that he let loose, someone would die. Milo put on a brave front. But on the inside, deep within, he was experiencing a very deep type of hurting.

He couldn’t believe what he was doing.

He was taking lives. Evil ones, but lives, nonetheless. Every time he killed someone with a blade of wind, homing projectile—whatever it may be, he felt a pang in his heart.

But another part of him felt rejuvenated and excited. He was enacting revenge in a way.

Mother. Father. Byrn and John.

The Grecia Empire was finally receiving payback for what they did that day.

But he felt split. Through the screens of the array, he saw them die. He saw the looks on their faces; their dying expressions.

It imprinted into his subconscious.

Milo knew, right then and there, that he would never forget these images. They would always stay with him. That one day, he would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, paranoid that he was reliving this very moment.

He would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried.

But his people were dying. And he had to save them.

Six minutes to go.

***

Hanging in the air was a floating ribbon of blue light. Beginning at Heath’s chest, the ribbon of light stretched over the vast field in front of him for hundreds of meters before nosediving straight into the ground nearby a lonely tree.

[Fate’s Path] was Heath’s saving grace. If it weren’t for this ability, he would never have found the entrance in time. Feet striking against the ground, he collected the dew drops from a light shower the hour prior upon the bottom of his leather boots.

In only ten seconds, Heath closed the remaining distance. With a wave of his hand, Heath dug his feet into the ground and cast several [Fate Disks] in a row, tearing the ground right open.

As soon as he uncovered the hole he jumped inside.

Five minutes to go.

***

”Let me go you fucking whore!” An old man cried, his voice ripping across the entire library.

Someone’s inside, Milo realised.

His eyes widening in shock, he went through and opened and closed a few screens before he found view of the intruder. They were skewered against the wall by an entanglement of black arms that grew out of one another. Wielding this amalgamation of limbs was a short, hunchbacked woman with long white hair.

Freya had a dark expression on her face as she held her head down. White stringy hair hung in front of her face ominously.

She clenched her teeth together and spoke gently.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but I will give you one chance and one chance only to explain yourself. Don’t expect me to give you mercy just because I was your “teacher” at one point in time.”

Heath was shocked beyond belief. Freya was once his Dark Arts Teacher! She was also the previous [Head Inquisitor].

Why was she here of all places?

If she wanted to, Freya could kill him in an instant.

He internally cursed.

He had [Avoid Disaster] subtly pushing his fate in the better direction, and he still ended up in this position.

He was at Freya’s complete mercy.

Fuck, do I have anything on her that I can use? Heath thought.

Heath split his mind in two with [Parallel Consciousness]. As one half of himself answered her question, the other half of himself entered his mind’s eye and delved into the realm of fate.

Blitzing through the ocean of purple threads with, he yelled in celebration when he found exactly what he needed.

Only a few seconds had passed on the outside.

“I am deeply ashamed and saddened that we had to run into each other like this—”

[Parallel Consciousness] ceased and Heath returned to one whole. He interrupted his own sentence and said something else.

“I can bring Joshua back to life,” Heath stated.

There was a brief moment of silence as Freya processed what he just said.

Freya silently activated [Peer Truth]. “Say that again.”

Heath smiled smugly as he restated himself. Freya grimaced when the darkness’ appraisal of Heath’s statement came back as the truth. Heath expected Freya to jump at the opportunity.

He wasn’t exaggerating either. [Revive] was a real skill. Putting aside how exceedingly rare it was to find someone who could cast it in the first place, the problem was that it could only cast by people of the holy aspect.

So because Freya was the most powerful and notorious [Witch] alive, it would be impossible to find a single person willing to [Revive] her nephew amongst what few were capable of doing so in the first place.

It wasn’t some kind of trade with the devil either. The darkness allowed Freya to read into the intentions behind his words. She knew this was a genuine offer. Heath saw how dearly she missed him. He knew how evil she really was. He knew what she really was deep inside.

She was just like every other person with lots of levels under their belt.

Corrupted and selfish.

In just a moment, Heath predicted that she would say something along the lines of, ‘Oh, please, I beg you. Bring back my dear nephew. I will pay any price.’ Yet as the moments dragged on and Freya remained silent and unmoving like a lifeless statue, Heath became restless.

But when she finally answered, Heath smirked.

Four minutes to go.